


Once a Trainer, Always a Trainer

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Post Bartlett Administration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-22
Updated: 2009-12-22
Packaged: 2019-05-15 22:11:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14798927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: "I'm much more vested in Sam"





	Once a Trainer, Always a Trainer

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers through end of series; possible spoilers for "Holding Hands on the Way Down

 

 

 

 

 

Not mine, never were, never will be, but they consume my soul

 

 

 

 

 

Feedback and criticism always welcome

 

Author Notes

 

 

This brings CJ, Danny, Paul, Alicia, Derrick, Deborah, Paddy, Caitlin, and Dansha, except for a couple of epilogs, to the point where they were when I originally wrote "Scenes from an Alternate Universe" as what was supposed to be a one-shot story. In the past three years, it has become an important part of my life, combining so many facets of my imagination. Thank you for allowing me to tell this alternate universe story alongside "Holding Hands on the Way Down"  


* * *

**January 31, 2018; Kensington, CA 10:15 AM PST**

“Turn over.”

Paul pushed himself up on his elbows and rotated onto his back. “I hear and obey,” he said with a smile, using the words that CJ often used with him, using the same tone as she did, one that combined affection and self-mockery.

CJ playfully slapped the side of her husband’s hip as she reached for the bottle of oil. She straddled his thighs and, pouring some of the warm liquid on Paul’s chest, continued the massage she had begun on his back, arms, thighs, and calves.

Paul closed his eyes as CJ’s hands moved in circles from his abdomen to his shoulders, down to his waist and back to his sternum. The oil had a faint sandalwood aroma, pleasing, masculine, and somewhat sensual.

Not for the first time, Paul was grateful that he was no longer in his early twenties. The light pressure of CJ’s groin resting on his own was arousing, as was the scent emanating from the warmth between her legs, but he was able to enjoy the sensations and the desire without immediately responding to that need. Were he twenty-two again, as he had been that first year with CJ, this particular interlude would long have been history. Instead, it had been a good forty minutes since CJ had pulled him up from the table in the kitchen, and grabbing the warmed bottle of oil in one hard, pushed him backwards with the other, kissing him and undressing him, across the family room and into their bedroom. Then she shoved him onto the mattress, and fell on him, stripping off her own clothes, neither of them really caring that their heads were at the foot of the bed.

Some men had a problem with a woman as aggressor in the bed; it didn’t take an advanced degree in Psych to realize that it was a reflection of the man’s insecurity in his masculinity, in his role in the relationship. Paul was not one of those men. For the most part, he and CJ were equally proactive and reactive in sex, before, during, and after, no matter who made the first overture. But there were times when he needed to assert himself, or CJ needed him to assert himself; to be the pirate, the sheik, the adventurer – except neither of them were into sexual playacting. And then there were the times, not as often as for him but also not rarely, when CJ took the lead and Paul was more than happy to follow.

There were also men who, even if they were able to respond to female initiative in foreplay, would insist on being dominant when it came time for joining. Again, Paul was not one of those men. Had he been, he would not have guided her that second night, asking her to kneel over him; he would not have held his erection steady as she tentatively lowered herself onto him. He had waited until she said she was comfortable, until she assured him that she was in no discomfort, and then he had taken her hips in his hands and had guided her in the movements that would give him pleasure. (“But that’s for me, CJ; you need to find your own motion, the one that is good for you.”) Then Paul put his left hand on the small of her back, gently directing her, and used his right to give her the undulating motions she needed and that were elusive given her posture.

Top, bottom, or side by side, Paul Reeves knew what he was, knew who he was, and lying on his back looking up into the face of woman he loved and seeing her control their ecstasy did not diminish that sense of self. He loved to watch her breasts move with the motion even though, after nursing three children, they were no longer quite as pert as they were on a nineteen year-old initiate to womanhood. When he was not looking at her face, Paul liked to watch her groin as it pistoned up and down on his engorged shaft, to see the daylight, or semi-light, appear and disappear as his thick mahogany steel penetrated her creamy softness. 

In eight minutes, or twelve, she would raise up just enough to take in the head, and soon after that her movements and his fingers would take them to climax. For now, he would revel in her ministrations.

In eight or twelve minutes. Paul had best make sure she was wet enough for him; he reached for her folds.

“This is all about you,” CJ said as she pushed away his hand.

“Sweetheart, I need to make you ready - ”, Paul protested.

“You don’t think I’m aroused for you?” CJ said with a smile.

Moving away from him, she lightly kissed his erection and slid over his feet, repeating the kiss.

Leaning against the headboard, she opened her legs and reached for her core.

“I think I’m ready, but if you want me to be sure, I’ll take care of that, too.” She moved her fingers in a circle. After a minute or so, she asked “Can you hear me squeak with the wetness?”

Paul held out his hand and spoke with ragged breath.

“Please.”

Crawling on hands and knees toward him, CJ smiled and said, “Since you asked nicely.”

Afterward, he needed to roll slightly from side to side to let CJ straighten her legs one at a time and lie with the length of her body against his. Another change from those first months together, he thought as he pulled the covers up and over the two of them. That first time, those two years thirty-five years ago, a much more agile CJ would have been able to make the moves without any assistance from him.

CJ sighed in contentment and kissed the tight little nipple just under her nose.

“I’m so glad we were able to arrange our schedules for this, Paul, With Paddy back in school and having Scouts on Wednesday afternoons, plus being able to put the girls in daycare, we can have the whole day to ourselves.”

“Well, this week and next week. Remember, the contractors will be starting on the addition by the middle of February,” Paul answered, brushing the fly-away strands of hair from her face.

“Are you saying that we won’t be able to close our bedroom door and draw the drapes? After all, they’ll be on the other side of the house,” CJ countered.

“I’m just saying that I like my privacy, sweetheart, and I’m not sure that they won’t know what’s going on.”

But there will be ways, Paul thought. We can be romantic without necessarily having intercourse. And we can always take a room at the Durant.

CJ had fallen asleep on him, literally as well as figuratively. For all her height, she was a slight woman (although she often mentioned the five pounds she had gained since her wedding to Danny on top of the seven she had gained since her undergrad days) and the weight on his body felt good. Paul decided against shifting her to his side and, loosely wrapping his arms around her waist, began the process of settling his mind into joining her in a nap.

Later, he told himself, he needed to figure out how to gently, tactfully, tell CJ that he had found the sight of her stimulating herself disturbing. Other men found it arousing, he knew. He was aware that such scenes were part of the X-rated videos shown at bachelor parties. (Parties to which he had not been invited since his ordination. As a Protestant minister, he had not been required to take a vow of celibacy but apparently society expected a fair amount of chastity from him.)

He wondered what had put the idea into her head because it was certainly not something he had ever asked of her. Was it something she had read in the drugstore novels, the guilty pleasure she had picked up from Carol and Margaret? Of course, Paul reminded himself, he was not the only man in her life. Had any of them made it part of their love play? Had Danny?

_**Mars (the men’s place)** _

“ _Of course not! Don’t you remember that time when you came back from Atlanta when she told you about the shower hose?” Danny exclaimed._

“ _Danno, me boy, watch your language. Look at Tal’s face. Believe me, that’s not the kind of thing a father wants ta hear about his daughter, no matter how old she is, no matter how married she is. See your five and raise.” Padraic Concannon put his chips in the center of the pile and turned to his right._

“ _Leo?”_

“ _I fold”._

Good Lord, he had completely forgotten. He remembered CJ telling him how she had used the shower massage unit that week he was in Georgia; he remembered, his curiosity probably increased by all those missed stag parties, asking her to show him what she had done. And he remembered feeling unaroused, feeling slightly ashamed of himself, as if he were peeking through curtains, invading her privacy.

Was he losing his mind, Paul wondered? Was it normal aging or a sign of something more serious? He prayed to God that it wasn’t the latter, not for himself, he would accept whatever God’s providence had in store for him, but for CJ. Please don’t put her through that again, he prayed. Once was more than enough. Paul remembered Talmadge Cregg as a vibrant man in his early fifties, intelligent and passionate about his vocation to teach. Paul had not known the man he had become twenty-five years later. But he had known too many others who had been afflicted with the same dreaded disease, known too many other loved ones whose anguish was heart-breaking.

Paul’s last cogent thought was one of self-chastisement, not only for forgetting about the past but also for wondering about it. Danny and Alicia had no place in their bedroom. Those memories were kept alive in the living room, were honored in the other rooms of the house. But in this room, in this bed, they had no place in his and CJ’s consciousness. In this room, in this bed, no other woman existed, no other man existed.

They woke a little before noon and made love again. This time, Paul found himself taking the lead, guiding CJ in much the same way as she had done him earlier. After showering, the two of them sent out for pizza, reveling in the rare luxury of not having to consider that Paddy hated olives, that the deep wisdom of childhood had convinced Caitlin that mushrooms were “icky”, and that Dansha was going through a bit of a vegetarian phase. Then they watched a “grownup” (nothing salacious, just serious) movie, with Paul slipping his hands under CJ’s sweater and down her pants. When the movie was done, there was enough time for CJ to slip to the floor in front of the couch, to unzip Paul’s jeans, and to return the pleasure she had received during the film.

After Paul left to pick up the kids, CJ went to the kitchen to prepare a snack for the three of them. Passing by the counter en route to the refrigerator, she turned on the little television. It would be the first time they had accessed the outside world since early in the morning.

“Of course there will be many questions as the FAA investigates the causes of this terrible crash, Jim, but right now, the biggest question, the most pressing question, has to be, who will take Lewis Berryhill’s place as the most likely Democratic candidate for president this fall.”

CJ dropped the bowl of fruit-laced Jell-O ™ on the counter and turned to see the CNN anchors fade from sight as the network’s logo screen showed the words “Fatality in Iowa”.

The phone rang; the Caller-ID screen displayed “Lyman, J and D”.

“Josh?”

“No, it’s Donna. He’s running around like a dervish, using my cell and his, trying to get a committee together. I keep trying to tell him that he really should talk with Sam first, but he doesn’t hear me. Anyway, I wanted to warn you because I’m sure you’re next on his list. In fact, I just heard him tell Toby that ‘of course, CJ will be on board’, and -”

“Donna, what happened? I just turned on the television two seconds before you called,” CJ interrupted her friend.

“You haven’t seen any TV or heard any radio all day? Are you sick or something?”

“Well, no. Neither of us are in our offices on Wednesdays; Paddy’s back in school and we put the girls in daycare all day and - ”.

“Have a little bit of CJ/Paul time,” Donna finished the sentence. “You’re lucky to be able to do that once a week. Josh and I struggle to get a date night once a month. Getting time by ourselves at home is rarer, unless you count 15 minute quickies.”

“Hey, you make the most of what you’ve got. But back to the question at hand?” CJ asked.

“Sudden snow storm in the mid-West. Berryhill’s plane went down outside of Davenport. Explosion. Only three fatalities, but one of them was Lew. The news reports say he and the pilot were helping someone trapped in her seat when the plane - . It’s just terrible.”

CJ could hear the unshed tears as Donna tried to keep her voice from breaking.

“And with no viable front-runner, Josh is going back to pushing at Sam, isn’t he?” CJ asked.

“And he wants to present Sam with a fait accompli, a ready and willing staff from the best of the Bartlet and Santos campaigns and administrations,” Donna replied. “Toby’s already on board, Ginger too, Edie, Lou Thornton, even Ryan Pierce, you remember him, he was a snarky intern right after Zoey’s kidnapping. Wait just a sec; can I put you on hold?”

CJ waited for a bit while Donna apparently answered another call.

“Would you believe my husband just texted me> He says that Liz Westin is in and that he’s trying you next.”

Indeed, CJ’s phone signaled that she had another call.

“Well, I guess I better take his call. Thanks for the heads up, Donna. Love you.”

Thirty minutes later, CJ was sitting at the table, nursing a mug of tea when the kids came pouring in from the garage, eager to tell her about their days. She was helping Dansha take off her jacket when Paul came into the kitchen, laden down with carry-out bags. CJ gave him a questioning look. Dinner ingredients were in the refrigerator. The menu had called for grilled chicken cutlets, rice, and broccoli.

“I stopped at the store,” Paul said, somewhat unnecessarily. “I also picked up a movie for the kids for after dinner. I had the radio on in the car and heard the news; I figured we would need to talk.”

Not for the first time in her marriage (or even in the past month) CJ was thankful for such a perceptive man, such a kind man, in her life. Well, two of them, she amended.

“Anyway,” Paul added, “Paddy and I are going to the study to do our homework. Why don’t you play with the girls? I think Dansha has the same finger-painting gene that Caitlin has, so it’s obviously from your side of the family.”

After supper, with the kids engrossed in the latest Pirates of the Caribbean flick in the family room, CJ was once again at the kitchen table, this time with her husband and this time with a glass of wine rather than a mug of tea.

“So, is Sam going to run?” Paul asked.

“Josh hadn’t yet talked with him when he called me,” CJ answered. “But I think he will. There really is no one else who can beat Haffley, and, more importantly, I really think that Sam would beat Haffley.”

“Josh wants a team behind him when he does go to Sam with the idea, and Josh wants you on that team,” Paul stated the obvious.

“How do you feel about that, Paul?”

“First of all, sweetheart, what do **you** want? How do you feel about it?” Paul asked in turn, smiling at his wife.

“ _It’s déjà vu all over again,” Danny whispered. “She’s been through this before.”_

“I’ve been through this before, remember,” CJ smiled.”But that was different. I wasn’t vested in Matt Santos the way I’m vested in Sam. I was burnt out but I wasn’t sure I could say no. And working in the White House was the devil I knew. But Danny told me I would get good at something different if I wanted something different. And he was right. And I am good at this life, at being a university administrator, at being a mom, and most of all, at being a wife, first to Danny and now to you. And I like, no, I love, being those things. But Sam is my friend, and if he says he needs me - ”.

“Sweetheart, if you want it, we’ll figure it out.”

“I’d like to help, but I don’t want the campaign life again. I don’t want to go from hotel to hotel to hotel, eating weird food at weird hours. I want my kids. I want to sleep in my own bed. I want to sleep next to you.” The last sentence was said in a whisper.

“Then tell Josh that, sweetheart,” Paul replied.

“I did. He said that Donna was on board, and she has a life she enjoys, she has kids. I guess I’m not Donna.”

“No, CJ, you aren’t Donna. And there’s nothing wrong with that. You were an early bloomer, Donna is a late one. Who knows, maybe estrogen levels play a part. And Donna would have Josh on the campaign trail with her; I’m sure they’d be together for a good part of the time. In any event, let’s wait on Sam.

“Now, how about I make some popcorn and we join the kids?”

**February, 2018; Berkeley, CA (Pacific School of Religion faculty offices); mid-afternoon**

“PSR. Paul Reeves.”

Paul didn’t recognize the phone number that appeared on his phone so he used his more formal greeting.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Reeves. Would you mind holding for Governor Seaborn?”

So Sam was coming to him first, Paul mused as he waited for the transfer. Was Sam doing it out of politeness? How does a man ask another for the use of the other’s wife? Not **that** way, of course, Paul quickly told himself. Maybe those English and French kings three hundred years ago did, when they wanted some married woman as mistress.

The phone clicked.

“Hey, Paul, I apologize for keeping you waiting. I was with Warren. Don’t quote me on this, but our state treasurer’s motto is to never use one word when you can use ten”, Sam said with a slight laugh. “So, how are CJ and the kids? I understand from Morgan that Derrick finally got Natasha to say ‘yes’. Bonnie won the pool, she says. And your grandson?”

Paul answered the governor’s questions, inquired about Morgan, Gemma, and Donnie in turn, and then, anticipating the answer, asked Sam how he could be of service to him.

“Paul, if I had the time, I’d come down to talk with you in person, or send a car to bring you here. But I’m operating under a time constraint. I’m sure you know that Josh had moved heaven and earth to try to get me to run this time, and that he had reluctantly accepted my decision to defer to Lew, but now he’s telling me that I have to run.

“Paul, I’ve been handed my political life by chance and circumstance. I became lieutenant governor when Abe Miller died; I became governor when Gabe Tillman was killed in that terrorist attack nine years ago. And now this horrible accident that took Lew Berryhill’s life. Paul, is God guiding all of this? And what kind of God would take someone else’s life to make things easier for me? Am I being obtuse to His messages, that He has to do these horrible things to others to get me to do what He wants?”

Paul quickly disabused Sam of the idea that God would act in the manner Sam had outlined.

“If it’s not God, Paul, could it be, ah, someone, something else?”

Paul shivered in spite of himself. The concept of competing forces of good and evil was as old as religion itself. While he certainly did not hold with the idea that the devil was as powerful as God, he did believe that there was a power that did not hold the good of mankind, the good of the universe, as primal.

“It’s been said ‘There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in your philosphy’, but I don’t see you as a tool of evil, Sam. What’s happened in your life is just a set of somewhat eerie coincidences,” Paul assured the man.

“Yeah, well. Look, Morgan and I are still weighing everything. It would obviously be a complete one-eighty of our plans. What would it do to Gemma and Donnie, of course, and, keep this under your hat, we weren’t going to go public for another month or so, but we’re expecting another child in September. I know as soon as I tell Josh, he’s going to tell me it’s an eight point bump, but - ”.

“You don’t want to use your family a campaign gimmick, or even appear to be doing so,” Paul finished the sentence. He took a deep breath.

“Sam, it goes without saying that if you decide to run, it would be foolish to not want the best people at your back. Josh has already called CJ, asked her to be part of the team.”

“And you would rather she didn’t,” Sam added. “I understand.”

“If CJ wanted to campaign with you, we’d figure out how to make it work, Sam. The thing is, I think she’s happy with the life we have. The thing is, I think that had Danny not died, she would have been happy with the life she and Danny had. The university makes her happy; the kids make her happy. And I make her happy. I don’t think that flying around the country, away from us for days, weeks at a time, would make her happy. But she loves you, Sam, and she thinks you would make a good president. She’s conflicted. I’ll support whatever decision she makes, but should she ask me to make the decision for her, should she ask me to be the heavy because she doesn’t want to hurt you, I’ll tell her to tell Josh ‘no’, and take whatever grief he, or you, would throw at me.”

“You know, Paul, being with me doesn’t have to mean being _with_ me on the campaign. CJ spent five years working with the man that perfected the global office, the global committee. She could advise, strategize, contribute, from the comfort of her kitchen or her bed.”

“Well, I would prefer to be the only man in her bed,” Paul laughed, “but I understand your meaning. But by the same token, she could be with us, the kids and me, and still be a million miles away.”

“I told Josh that Morgan and I would give him an answer tomorrow morning. If it’s ‘yes’, the next call would be to her, Paul. I have to ask,” Sam said quietly.

“I understand. But not tomorrow, at least not tomorrow morning. She won’t be back until late in the day.”

“Won’t be back?” Sam asked. “From where?”

“Santa Monica. It’s five years since Danny passed.”

“Oh, God, I forgot! So you’re having a memorial?”

“There will be a Mass at St. Monica’s. Hogan is coming in tonight and will fly her down and back. She wants to do this alone. Sam, I’m sure that her memories, good and bad, of her time with Jed Bartlet, are affecting her thoughts about joining you and the others.”

“Do you want me to wait? A week? A month?”

“No. We’ve established a pattern, she and I. We tend to get a little moody a day or two before the anniversaries, me in May, her at this time of the year. The day Alicia died, the day Danny died, are the roughest. But it doesn’t linger.”

Paul’s Outlook calendar lit up; it was 3:45 and he had a late meeting scheduled to start at 4:00.

“Sam, I have a committee meeting; but if you need to talk more, I can call back.”

“Thank you for your time, Paul. You’ve helped more that you could ever know.”

“My pleasure, Sam. And whatever you decide, CJ and I are behind you all the way.”

There was enough time to call CJ, to talk with her, to apologize once more for the lateness of the meeting, for the fact that it would be after seven by the time he got home. Once more she told him that it was okay. Hogan called. Her departure was delayed, wouldn’t be getting into Oakland until 9:30.

“So it’s a tossup as to who will arrive last, Hogan or Derrick,” Paul said.

“They’ll come in together. Derrick called here a while back and volunteered to stop off at the airport for Hogan. They have each other’s numbers and have everything set up.”

“I thought I was going to run over to get her.”

“Well, our older son is very considerate, no surprise considering the father,” CJ said. “Anyway, the girls are really excited about the company.”

“And Paddy?” Paul asked.

“Is now Pat.” CJ answered. “Apparently, Trevor Wilkins did a report on Irish immigration in the mid-nineteenth century and announced that ‘Paddy’ was a derogatory term for an Irishman, an ethnic slur. A discussion ensued. Then Ted Baker said that even if it wasn’t an insult, Paddy was a childish name and that sealed it. Our son is now Pat.”

“I’ll try to remember. Listen, I need to get going. See you in a few hours. I love you, sweetheart.”

**10:30 PM**

“Yes, thanks, Dad, I’d love some more.”

Derrick held out his glass and Paul filled it again from the decanter holding MacDonald whiskey.

“Hogan, can I get you some more juice?” CJ asked her niece. (Since she would be flying in the morning, alcohol was forbidden to the Navy pilot.)

The four adults were sitting in the family room, relaxing in front of the fire.

“I’m fine; anymore and I’ll risk messing up your couch,” Hogan replied. Then she turned to Derrick. “So, tell me about the wedding. I can’t believe you guys are going to pull it off in less than a year.”

“Didn’t you do it in seven months?” Derrick asked.

“Yes, but it was an Annapolis wedding. All the church stuff was done by the chapel planners. There were two other ceremonies that afternoon, so there was no choice of flowers or that sort of thing. It was a military wedding so all the guys were in dress mess. My bridesmaids picked a dress from an internet site and I knew ever since my junior prom that I wanted a very simple white Vera Wang gown with a mantilla. My favorite Academy professor lives in a beautiful old house on the bay and he allowed us to use it for the reception. His wife is a born party hostess and she ran the reception like it was D-Day.”

“Well, Natasha, her sister Tatiana, and her mother are also very good at this sort of thing, I guess. By the way, CJ, I’m supposed to tell you that the wedding colors are cream and crimson. Natasha’s already contacted Deborah with the website. I have a picture of the dress for Caitlin, Dansha, and Tasha’s niece; they can be in white sandals. The lot of them are coming out to visit in early March; it might be a good time for the families to meet. We men will be in black tuxes with silver ties, no cumber bunds.”

“Well, the girls are all excited about being in another wedding,” Paul told his son.

“Which brings up another point – Paddy.”

“Pat, please!” CJ said with a laugh. “I told him that he might be a bit too old for a ring bearer, to prepare him for not being asked.

“Definitely too old and too tall for a ring bearer,” Derrick said. “I have another role in mind for him.”

“Junior usher?” Hogan asked.

“Not quite. Best man.”

“Really?” asked Paul.

“Really. If Dad weren’t performing the ceremony, I’d want him. I don’t want to choose among my friends and Pad – Pat is the only brother I have, well, I guess Tom is a brother-in-law. Anyway, Tasha and Tiana, the matron of honor, are fine with it. And I did talk with Gary, that’s Tiana’s husband; he said he’d be glad to help. If it’s okay with you guys,” Derrick looked from CJ to Paul.

“He’s not going to be able to throw you a bachelor party,” CJ said.

“I don’t want that kind of party,” Derrick said.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll do fine,” Paul said.

“I need to get to bed; I need eight hours,” Hogan said, rising and heading for the living room.

“And I’m bushed, myself,” Derrick added. “I’m tired enough that I think I’ll be able to deal with a bunk bed.”

“Well, if you can’t, pull the mattress down to the floor,” CJ told him.

After the two young people left the room, she turned to Paul. “Shall we?”

“Not just yet, sweetheart.”

Paul needed to talk with CJ about his conversation with Sam. Not the stuff about Sam’s concerns about God and good and evil; that was pastoral counseling. But Paul needed to be honest about Sam’s intention, should he choose to run for the nomination, to ask CJ to participate on the team, albeit from Kensington.

It was a conversation Paul would prefer not take place in their bed.

“Oh,” CJ said quietly when Paul had finished with the details of the phone call.

“I’m not sure whether he was asking me for permission to approach you or to feel out what my sense of your answer would be, CJ. In any event, I couldn’t let him hit you blind with the idea.”

“It was probably a little of both, Paul. I suppose it would be an option,” CJ said slowly.

Paul could sense the doubt in her voice. He also knew that CJ had a long day ahead of her, a long, emotionally taxing day.

“Anyway, Sam said he was still weighing everything, so why don’t we wait for that. Let’s go to bed.”

**February 2, 2018; early morning**

Paul could only lay there, his right arm around her shoulders, his left hand stroking her hair.

One part of his mind registered the fact that her groin was pressed against his, with only the thin silk of his pajama bottoms between them. Luckily, although the feeling was rather pleasant, he was able to keep himself from arousal. The other part of his mind registered the fact that she was sobbing her heart out for another man and that he totally understood, totally knew that it took nothing away from their marriage, took nothing away from her love for him.

The alarm sounded and CJ’s sobs slowed and quieted. It was time to get ready for the trip to Santa Monica.

Sixty minutes later, Paul was standing in the drive, watching Hogan and CJ leave for the airport. He felt an arm around his shoulders and turned to smile at Derrick. Over the past five years, Paul had come to take comfort in his son’s company on this day.

“Let’s go feed the kids, Dad. Paddy wants your French toast.”

**Santa Monica, CA**

CJ unfolded the lawn chair that Diana had thoughtfully put in the car and sat next to the headstone. She set the flowers, the two baseballs, and the copy of the _Post_ (sealed in heavy waterproof plastic) on the gravesite and cast one glance to the car where Diana and Hogan, each with a book (“Don’t worry about us, take as long as you want, lunch will keep”) waited.

Diana had met their plane at the Santa Monica city airport and had taken CJ and Hogan directly to St. Monica’s, where Mass had been said for Danny Concannon. Several of the neighbors (Hank, Frank, Clara, Wally, Sally, Ken and Laura) were at the church and after the service, they hugged and kissed her, told her they would see her later at lunch.

“I love you, Daniel Michael Fabian Concannon, and I miss you,” CJ said, the tears flowing freely down her face. “Your children love you and miss you as well. Paddy wants to be known as Pat; I hope you and your father don’t mind. He’s not nine yet and he’s already five feet. Everyone says he looks like me, but whenever he opens his mouth I hear your voice. And Caitlin looks so much like the pictures Erin gave me of you and that age, so much like the ones of Aisling at five. She says that she remembers you and Danny, I believe her, even though she was only ten weeks when you left us. And your and Alicia’s little namesake is the perfect little child.

“I’m a grandmother, Danny, at least a step one. It seems funny to say that just thirty seven months after giving birth. But I don’t feel like a grandmother. And Derrick’s Natasha finally said yes; this time, I’m mother of the groom and all I have to do is enjoy the wedding. Of course, Paul and I are going to help with the expense.

“Danny, Sam is going to run for president. Well, he hasn’t officially decided, but I know he will. Have you seen Lew Berryhill up there yet? Tell him I’m sorry, I know how much he wanted to be president. Anyway, Sam wants me to help and I don’t know if I can tell him ‘no’. He even says, at least he told Paul, that I don’t have to be on the trail with him, that I can be a telecommuting advisor. Danny, I don’t think I can do it. I’ve managed to strike the right balance with Berkeley, Paul, and the kids. I don’t see how I can take on anything else and give what I want to give to my family and my job. But how can I tell Sam that? How can I tell Josh that?

“ _The same way you did eleven years ago, Jeannie. You tell them that part of your life is over. You tell them that you have a husband, children, a grandchild, that you love, that you have a fulfilling career that you love. You tell them that you will always be available as a sounding board, or for advice, but always from home, and always as an_ _ **ad hoc**_ _thing. But you also tell them that you can’t take on the responsibility of overseeing any part of the campaign._

“ _I see I’m still training you, CJ, after all these years, so I’ll tell you what I told you then. You’ll get good at it, get good at telling people ‘no’._

“ _I love you, CJ. I love my life, if that’s the right word, here in heaven, being with my parents, meeting your parents, being with our boys and our precious Danielle. I love what I have with Alicia. I’m happy here, and I’m happy that you and Paul are so good together, for each other and for the kids. But I wish I could still be there with you, to hold you, to kiss you, to bury myself inside you._

“ _Now, I think it’s time for you to go. Our friends are waiting for you on the block. Your husband and children are waiting for you at home. And the next president of the United States is waiting to tell you that he is going to run, is waiting to be told that he will run and win without you, except in spirit.”_

CJ felt a warm pressure against her mouth, as if a gust of wind had come through the cemetery. She ran her hand over the engraved names of her first born sons and that of their father. With a final “I love you”, she rose, folded up the chair, and headed toward Diana’s car.

_Danny watched her leave. He took hold of his sons’ hands and turned around. Alicia was waiting for him. The boys ran off with Pistol and Alicia extended her arm. He smiled at the woman, took her hand, and the two of them walked in the direction of Cassiopeia’s Chair._

**Early evening; Kensington, CA**.

CJ shifted slightly against Paul’s side and took comfort in the warm rise and fall of his chest.

After a couple of hours with the old neighbors in Santa Monica, CJ and Hogan, with Maggie in tow for Pat, had returned to the Bay area.

It was only a few minutes after that, barely time to hug Paul and the kids, that Sam had called. There had been no time to tell Paul before she told Sam that she could not be a formal member of his campaign team, even a “work from home” member, so all she could do was look directly at Paul as she gave Sam her decision. She listened with half her mind as Sam said he understood, and then asked if she could at least come to Sacramento to be there when he formally announced. The other half of her mind was completely engaged in silent conversation with her husband. Yes, my dear, I am sure. Yes, I am saying it with a completely contented heart. I know you would have done whatever it took to make it work had I wanted to do it. I still remember the lessons Danny taught me so long ago. I love you, Paul.

When Derrick and Hogan took the kids for supper and a movie, CJ and Paul were able to verbalize the mental conversation, to confirm and convince each other of their acceptance of the situation.

And then, they had come to this bed. It was the first time in over four years of marriage that they had made love on the anniversary of Danny’s or Alicia’s death.

Paul had been hesitant when she first made the overture and she wondered if he felt intimidated by the memories. Once CJ reassured her husband that she was not acting out of obligation, but rather out of love and desire, he became a very willing participant.

Paul opened his eyes, and catching her perusal of his face, smiled, turned to his side and lifted up on one arm.

“I love you, sweetheart. I thank God for you.”

“I love you, Paul. I thank God for you.”

_Alicia put her arm around Danny._

“ _I’m sure God had something to do with it,” she told the red-haired reporter and author. “But they should be thanking you. If you hadn’t had the grace, while dying, to insist-. Danny! People can see!”_

“ _Sooner or later, CJ and Paul will remember. And what have I told you about the difference between people seeing and people watching?”_

_He smiled at her with gentle reproof._

“ _I guess I haven’t finished with my training duties today.”_


End file.
